Curtain Call
by oOPrettyOddOo
Summary: Annabelle just wants justice for her celebrity crush - the Joker. It was wrong to lock him up all by his lonesome. Now with the help of her newly acquired 'agent', Jen, she's closing the curtains on Gotham
1. Obsessive Compulsive

**A/N: It's ok! I didn't drop off the face of the earth! If you've read my Twilight story, you'll know that right now it's on hiatus and I'm not sure when that's going to change. But for now I've got this story for you to enjoy!**

**So, lately I've really been into Batman stuff - I blame my uncle. He's got a lot of the comic books in his basement, along with numerous Bat-Mobile models. He's so cool ^.^**

**Anyway, tell me if you like the story, I've already got about four chapters written out, I just have to type them.**

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Annabelle woke up to the door slamming shut in the next room. She looked to her right and the place where her boyfriend, Sam, should have been was a note. It read:

_Dear Annabelle,_

_I can't take anymore of your insanity. There's just too much to worry about. I know my mother can be a bitch but just because she offers you a cookie does not mean it's poisoned. _

_I hope you have a lovely life in an asylum._

_Love never,_

_Samuel_

Anger bubbled in Belle's chest. Who does he think he is? She lets him stay with her when otherwise he would be in the Narrows getting practically (perhaps literally) eaten alive by rats and sleazy homeless people. If he was lucky a nice old man might offer him some soup. She was very familiar with the goings-on of the Narrows. She wrote about it regularly, it was her job. She wrote a small column in Gotham Times about the daily news of the horrid place. She was always begging for more space on the page, but she was always second place to the big ad companies. Apparently the only time Gotham wanted to hear about the Narrows was when Batman swooped in to save someone from whatever was going on.

Coming out of her silent rant, she reached for the remote to the miniscule television at the foot of her bed. There was new reporter today.

"_Jamie Gaffigan reporting from City Hall, where the infamous Joker is being tried on at least fifty counts of murder and other charges that are to be determined at a later date. There have been rumors about whether the case will be moved up to Supreme Court. The mayor said that it would be impossible for the case to be moved up to them so rapidly. But the Senator has other ideas." _

They showed a press conference with Senator at the center with at least five different microphones. "The good people of Gotham have suffered greatly by the hand of this mass murderer. He attempted to tear down the very foundation of what America stands for. His crimes have been so extreme that I am surprised he hasn't been tried for terrorism."

It went back to Jamie. "The mayor has refused to have a press-" Belle jumped up and yanked the chord out of it's socket.

"_Shut up!"_ she yelled at no one. She sank to the floor. _Damn Batman . . . Damn him to hell,_ she chanted in her head. He had no right stepping in and ruining the Joker's ingenious plan to show the everyone just how stupid they really are. It was as terrible as shredding the Mona Lisa.

At this point she was glad that she was alone. Sam would never understand her, he might even get jealous if he actually loved her like he used to. She simply admired the Joker. He might have thought she was insane for that as well. She didn't want to see a doctor again. They irritated her, yet scared her at the same time. They somehow found a way inside her head, as if they ripped her skull open and peeked inside. And it hurt her. She didn't want anyone looking in her head. It was for their own good, her head was a scary place, even to her. That's what they were doing to the Joker right now. He was stronger than her, she knew it. He wouldn't give in quite so easily.

The other day she was walking past Arkam on her daily route and saw a blonde doctor. She immediately recognized her as the same person that pried open her skull. She pitied this young psychiatric student. At least that's what she was at the time. Belle was this woman's first patient. Belle had to admit, she liked Dr. Quinzel. She seemed to understand, and not condemn her patients. It was refreshing since that's the only thing the other's did to her. She felt like she was in a Saw movie. The torture, the feeling that someone you don't know knows everything about you. It was a feeling she prayed she would never have to feel again.

She finally stopped her sobbing and looked at the clock for the first time that morning. It was unplugged! That bastard Sam must have done it just to tick her off. It was a strange OCD of hers. Starting when she woke up, she had to know what time it was every five minutes. Even if she already knew, she had to see a clock. Because of this she was always punctual. But today she was going to be late! She didn't want to turn the television back on to see what Gotham's Morning News said the time was. She knew the only thing she would see was more things about the Joker. Today, she didn't want to hear about him anymore. She would get to work when she got to work. And that was that . . . As hard as it was for her.

She dashed through her hall, past her numerous posters for plays such as 'Phantom of the Opera' and 'Cats' and 'Wicked' she had seen them all at least three times. But she didn't have time to admire them today. She was probably late. That never happens. Who knew what was going to happen in the next hour it took her to punch in? And then the time it would take to walk down to the Narrows . . . My gosh it was a disaster! And to make things worse, her boss was a total jerk. Go figure. Even though she hadn't been late _ever_ he would still be up her but about it. What a prick.

She took a fast shower, deciding that her hair was fine just the way it was, got dressed, got her camera and notes and then dashed out the door. She was a bit too fast to notice that she had neglected to lock the door.


	2. A Friendly Gesture

**A/N: Okay, the last chapter wasn't very long, but this one is about twice as long as Chapter One! But in the beginning it's a lot of descriptions, but I need to convey how she dresses, that's always important to me when I'm developing a character because clothing is a large part of your style most of the time.**

Belle ran through the streets of the business section of Gotham. She didn't have as much to worry about in this part of the town, but she was always on her toes. When you live in a city that's as horrid as this, it becomes second nature. Even if someone had managed to sneak up on her she had pepper spray and a switchblade tucked into her boot. Someone would be getting a nasty surprise if they decided to jump her. But she highly doubted anyone would have the guts to. She was rather disturbing in her appearance, and it was no accident. She liked to look terrifying. It gave her a type of dominance over others that she just fed off of.

Her hair was short, mousy brown, and stuck out every which-way. Her lipstick was a dark purple that exaggerated her pale complexion. Her eyes were a curious shade blue that looked purple in the sunlight, and navy blue in dim lighting. Her clothes depended on her mood. But they were all in some way, shape, or form, colorful. She didn't have a 'little black dress' she had a 'little ocher dress.' It gave a splash of color to her otherwise black-and-white life.

Today was the day before Halloween, so she decided on Halloween themed colors in her outfit. A pale orange jacket, vibrant purple dress that covered slightly more than half her thighs with shoes to match, and thick dark green stockings to keep her legs warm. On her head was a black and pink striped beret she had knitted herself; it was a result of a relaxation exercise that she had to go through while in Arkham. At least it had some usefulness to it.

She pushed past the rush-hour crowd. She arrived at City Hall, and when she looked up at the clock tower she let out a sigh. She was only fifteen minutes behind schedule. The boss couldn't say anything about that, now could he? It wasn't her fault. She could say that her boyfriend let her sleep because he didn't know it was a workday for her. It just might work with him. A little mind manipulation never hurt anyone.

She ran into the Gotham Media building, which included Gotham News on the first three floors, then Gotham Times on the upper three. She said a quick 'hello' to the doorman, Jonathon, and made a beeline for the elevator. The 'up' arrow was already lit and she just had to wait with three other people for the elevator to open. About a minute later she was anxious, but was relieved when the doors had finally opened. Since it was still the beginning of the day, no one was coming out of the elevator . . . or so she thought. The doors opened and as she began to rush into the small compartment, she ran into someone and almost fell backwards, but someone had caught her. She heard gasps around her, but they didn't sound concerned. She righted herself and looked up at her savior. She smiled as she recognized the face of one of her friends, Bruce Wayne. They met the night of Harvey Dent's fundraiser – may he rest in peace. They started meeting in the oddest of places. In the artsy book store that was down the street from the Media building, in the cinema, and the most intriguing encounter she had with him was when she was at work, on her way towards Arkham.

He had been driving his Lamborghini and pulled over. If it were any other car she would run away at top speed. But what rapist can afford a car like that? She approached as he rolled down the tinted window. She leaned in, feeling the air conditioner and seeing it practically make steam when combined with the terribly hot and muggy air of the city. The stink of hot sewage hung in the narrow streets **(A/N: pun intended!)**. "What is a prestigious billionaire such as yourself doing outside of your cozy penthouse? Some business deal with a mobster?" she chuckled to herself. He looked oddly solemn.

"Something like that," he said ominously and quickly changed the subject. "How's the news today?"

"Don't ask. I can't let a man such as you know the horrors that lurk in every alley!" she joked. "You've got to keep a smiling face for the media, and who am I to ruin it for them, hmm?"

Bruce smirked – almost to himself – and replied, "A smile is surprisingly easy to paint on."

Belle stared at Bruce. He was always so deep, and she felt there was still a large part of him she did not know, a part she could not even begin to imagine – nor did she wish to. How is it that Gotham's billionaire 'I-burned-down-my-mansion-in-a-drunken-fury' Playboy jerk was actually an amazing guy when a camera wasn't pointed in his direction? Belle thought of just how good Bruce was when no one was around. Perhaps he showed his true self only when he was alone, or with his butler/father figure Alfred. Alfred seemed to be able to bring out the best in people. He was just that kind of guy. She had only met him once or twice. Once at the fundraiser and again when he was driving Bruce to some business meeting and pulled over to say 'hello.' He was a nice man, really, the kind that you get the feeling that they will be around forever. And after Bruce had lost his parents, it's a good thing he had Alfred, or she feared he would have gone into a murderous rampage or gone raving mad or something like that. She may not know them well, but she could see clearly that Alfred was the glue that kept Bruce together.

She snapped out of her memories and focused on Bruce. "Are you okay?" he asked with a worried look on his face.

"You should know by now that I tend to zone out, if I don't zone out _then _you can freak out. Simple as that!"

He replied with a chuckle. "You're late, you know. I was just talking to Mr. Haven and he commented on how irked he was about the tardiness of employees. I could help you out, you know. Who can cut the pay of a friend of a billionaire who could buy their business in a heartbeat?"

"I like your logic, Mr. Wayne, but I prefer to live by my own means, not mooch off of rich friends," she snapped, sounding sharper than she initially intended to. She looked up at him apologetically, softening the tone of her words.

"You may call me Bruce, especially when we go up there and talk to Mr. Haven," he said with determination on his too-perfect face. "You should play up the whole 'good friend' vibe when we go up there and save your underpaid job."

"Okay, you are seriously ticking me off. I don't need your help. I can handle this on my own! Don't try and patronize me, Bruce. And I am not underpaid!" She stormed into the elevator. Right before the doors closed, she yelled, "And you made me even later than I was in the first place!"

The doors closed and she pushed the button for the third level. She was fuming, but in her mind she knew it was a good idea. But she wasn't some weakling that couldn't handle an idiotic boss that didn't know about shit. She could, and she would. And if she got fired, boo-freaking-hoo. Who cares? She would get another job and she would move on with her life. _Any job would be better than this . . . _she lied. She loved what she did. She opened Gotham's eyes to the horrors of everyday life. And she had often thought that if it was an every-day occurrence, then was it truly a horrible thing? Theft and murder happened everyday, and was it ever a big deal? Did every murder get front-page the next day? No. So what is so special about things that people deem a terrible thing? Because it never happened to them. She knew that deep down every single person was fascinated with crime. It was something exciting and 'out-of-the-ordinary' – at least to them it was.

She only found the details of murder extraordinary. There were so many ways that people could die. Strangling, drowning, stabbing, poisoning, bleeding to death, suffocation, hit-and-run, and the list goes on! It's amazing how many things can cause the human body to simply shut down. Humans were incredibly vulnerable, and they tried to block out that fact as much as they could. But not Belle, nooo, she embraced it. She marveled at murder and death. Some call it sick; she calls it beautiful.

She ran into her office, trying her best to stack her papers together from the day before. The deadline wasn't for another few hours. The editors were quick with their work, so they would have no problem getting the story printed in time. She did most of her own spell-check and editing, so usually they just had to read it and print it. The editors liked her since she gave them that much less to do. She put the papers into the folder and rushed it to the editor's office. She slapped the manila folder on the desk.

"Here's today's story, sir, I'm off to the Narrows!" she rushed out the door and stopped at the punch-in clock. She fumbled to find her time card, but it wasn't in her slot. She knew this trick. Mr. Haven had done this to many employees who were late. It was the main topic of conversation at the water cooler when she came back in the afternoon to type up her notes. Today, they would be gossiping about her. Oh, the immature horror!

She groaned when she heard the distinct sound of paper flapping around. She turned around and glared at her employer. He was fanning himself with her time card. "Sleep in, Miss Abernethy? You seem rather refreshed." Belle fought back the urge to slap him. He looked so pompous and self-righteous she couldn't stand it.

"Yeah, I went to a play late last night. Are you familiar with the word 'art' or do I have to explain its importance?" she sounded innocent and harmless, but he didn't buy it.

"Don't mouth off to me! I am the one that gives you meaning to your life."

"Oh, and what is that? The meaning to get pissed off?"

"A little thing I like to call a paycheck."

"I'll tell you what you can do with my paycheck! You can shove it-"

"I do think that's enough," a separate voice interjected. Belle looked behind her to see who had interrupted her. It was Bruce, here to save the day. _I knew he would do this. He just can't seem to pass up an opportunity to save someone. Wuss, _she thought halfheartedly. She was secretly glad that he had decided to show. She didn't feel like looking through the want ads just yet.

Mr. Haven just looked at him, dumbfounded. "Aren't you supposed to be at a meeting or something right now?"

"No, I don't believe I am. Aren't you supposed to be respectful to your over-worked employees? You know, the ones that make money for you," Bruce said with a smirk. He winked at Belle. She felt all light and fluffy for some reason. She immediately dispelled this odd feeling and focused on the cherry red color of her soon-to-be-ex boss's face.

"Now, why don't you just pack your things? I will be talking to your manager about your absurd behavior shortly," he turned to Belle. "You can say 'hello' to your new magazine! You have officially moved from a simple 'page 8' column to an entire magazine about whatever you want it to be on."

She was about to speak, but was interrupted.

"And I swear if you say 'no' I will get Batman down here to smack you around."


	3. Flashback from Hell

**A/N: Ok, just to clarify on the last chapter, even though the idea of Belle, a lower-middle class journalist, being friends with Bruce Wayne, the richest, most respected man in Gotham, seems a bit radical, it's going to seem fathomable in this chapter. Please note that this chapter is mostly a flashback, but it will be distinguished with a line rather than italics.**

**Oh, and since I use some lines from the movie, I want to say that I own nothing that you recognize! I added a couple lines and changed up some things, but other than that, it's all DC.**

**And I'm sorry about the painfully long chapter!**

Belle sighed. She knew it was no use reasoning with him. He was going to create this magazine whether she liked it or not. At least it would be something she could enjoy doing. She knew very well just how stubborn Bruce could be.

"Alright, I give in! Go ahead, make me an editor, but don't complain if it tanks in a week's time."

He scoffed. "Come now, don't be so negative. Think on the bright side, this is going to jumpstart your career."

"No, meeting you jumpstarted my career, Bruce," she stated angrily. "And don't pretend like it was all me. If not for you, then I would be in the Unemployment office right now. But you have to learn that you can't save the world, as much as you would like to. Spend your money on orphans in Zimbabwe or something, but don't you dare waste your time or money on me. I'm not worth it." She had struck a nerve, his expression changed and he looked hurt for a moment's time but quickly hardened into a cold and emotionless façade.

"Fine then. I won't give you a magazine. I won't give you anything if it makes you happy. Keep your job, though. That's the one thing I have to give you. I wish you the best of luck with the next editor. If you need anything, make an appointment with my secretary," he said while looking off into the distance, blinking vigorously. She assumed he was blinking back tears, just as she was. How could she have said such a thing? Was she insane?

She forgot about the time card and walked out with her note pad and lucky pen. On her way to the Narrows she began to think back to a few weeks back, at Bruce Wayne's fundraiser in honor of the new DA, Harvey Dent . . .

Sam held Belle's hand to help her out of the cab. He had bought her a lovely-yet-affordable amber-colored dress and white ballet flats for the occasion. She had put a few streaks of blonde in her dark hair. He was wearing a simple tux and had bothered to actually brush his hair before they set out. She was invited because she was a, and was allowed to bring a date. Mr. Haven had given her the job since the usual Human Interest hadn't shown up for work that day. (The next day he was found dead with his camera in his hand and a note that said "SaY CHeeeEZe, GotHam.")

She linked her arm with Sam's and strode in smiling, her press pass around her neck and her digital camera around her wrist. At the entrance she flashed her pass and the guard let her and Sam through. In the ballroom it was crowded and busy, but not by any means was it fun or interesting. She looked around at all the people waiting to donate a small fraction of their money to the guest of honor.

Her main job was to interview Harvey Dent about the evening and she had questions ready. All she had to do was find him. This would seem easy, but the entire room was just a sea of black tuxedos and gowns. She was out of place as usual, and she liked it. She walked up to a woman in a black dress with dark hair that was in a low twist. She seemed like the only down-to-earth person in the whole ballroom.

"Can you tell me where Harvey Dent is? I need to interview him for Gotham Times."

"You just missed him, he went to get me a drink," the woman replied. Belle was just about to walk away when she said, "But you can wait with me, we can get acquainted. My name is Rachel Dawes." She held out her hand and Belle took it gratefully, happy to know that there are some sane people in Gotham.

"Pleased to meet you, my name is Belle Abernethy. I work at Gotham Times. Tonight I'm filling in for the usual Human Interest writer, he didn't show up for work today," she explained.

"That's never a good thing when you live in Gotham," Rachel stated solemnly.

"No it's not, but the job still needs to get done I guess. Usually I write about the Narrows. It's just a short little in the middle of the A section."

An expression of recognition crossed Rachel's face. "I've read your work before! I find it very realistic. I can't fathom why they wouldn't put you on the front page instead of this crap about dieting and the latest fashions. How about things with substance? It's important to actually tell people news rather than what they already know or just shouldn't care about in the first place."

Belle was stunned at the depth of this woman's mind. Her first impression of a socialite was stuck up and idiotic. The type of person that reads the front page and nothing else. But at that moment, a man with blonde hair and a defining cleft in his chin had come over with two glasses of champagne in his hands. He looked a bit exasperated for a moment but plastered on his political smile in a moment's notice.

"How may I help you Miss . . ." he paused, unsure of what to call her.

"Belle Abernethy of Gotham Times. I'm filling in for Rodger today, I'm sure you've met him before, correct?"

"Yes, Miss Abernethy, I've been interviewed by Rodger many times. He's quite, erm, pleasant," he faked. She had met Rodger and he was not by any means pleasant to be around. But she didn't bother with that.

"Please call me Belle. And congratulations on becoming the newest DA, Mr. Dent," she offered her hand.

"Call me Harvey. Now, shall we begin the interview?" he pointed to her notepad. She pulled out her pen from behind her ear and flipped to her questions. She began asking trivial questions that Harvey must've heard at least twenty times since he became the DA. She was in the middle of a question about the Joker when the sounds of a helicopter drowned her out. She looked out the window and saw a large black helicopter land on a circle. It figures Bruce Wayne would have a landing pad on his roof. She saw the billionaire get out and help two girls in short dresses out as well. He put his arms around their waists possessively and she felt a pang of jealousy. She suddenly remembered Sam . . . where was he? She looked around frantically but couldn't find him. She guessed he was in the bathroom or getting wasted so he could act like a jerk. She loved him but hated when he got drunk.

Bruce had been giving a speech about Harvey so she just clapped when she heard everyone else clap. Truthfully she couldn't care less what Bruce was saying. She looked over at Rachel and she was baffled by the annoyed look on her face.

"Rachel, what's wrong?" Belle whispered softly. Rachel just put her finger on her lips as a signal to be silent. She gave her a look that said 'I'll tell you later' and looked back up at Bruce. Everyone began to applaud and Belle swore she saw Harvey's head grow two sizes as he took in the applause. Rachel stormed over to Belle scooted off to the side, she didn't want to witness what was about to take place between them. She sauntered over to Harvey.

"Having a good time? You seem to enjoy the recognition this is giving you," she wrote down some notes about the speech Bruce had given, but didn't include much detail since she really hadn't been paying any attention. Just some crap about how touching it was for him to say such kind words about a fellow citizen.

"Well, its nice seeing so many people willing to believe in a better tomorrow."

Belle held back a snicker, but Harvey noticed. "What? Was it something I said?"

"No, no, continue, I was simply remembering something a friend of mine said the other day. You wouldn't get it, it's a bit of an inside joke, it would seem cruel to you," she skirted around that minefield quite easily.

Just then a man tapped her on the shoulder. She spun around only to poke the man with her pen. "Oh gosh, I'm sorry! I'm a very clumsy person, as you can see and . . . I . . . I, uh," she was dumbfounded at the person that faced her. It was none other than Bruce Wayne, the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, the owner of the penthouse, and the man she just stabbed with a leaky pen.

"Oh, that's okay, I have five of these upstairs," he said dismissively. "I was going to say that your friend over there is creating somewhat of a disturbance. He says he's your boyfriend but you can never trust the word of a drunk man." Belle looked over to where Bruce was pointing. There was Sam, harassing some old lady, hanging onto her shoulder with one hand and holding an empty shot glass in his hand. She apologized and rushed over to them.

"Sam, get off of her," she said like a stern mother as she pulled him away and apologized about ten times to the elderly woman. She pinned him against a wall and he took this as a sign that she wanted to make out. He leaned in but she pushed his face back. "You are being an ass, Sam. Now behave or I swear you will be paying me how much I was going to get for this article. You got that? The bill is thirty dollars." This got Sam's attention.

"I don't wanna paaaaay," he slurred. "I p-promise I'll behaaave babe." She sat him down on a couch and told him to stay there until the end of the party. He agreed with a nod and a smile that made him look like the ultimate jackass. She waved him off and walked to where Bruce was still standing, but he was talking to Harvey instead. She looked around for Rachel, since she was the only other person she knew there. When she couldn't find her in the sea of people, she turned back to Bruce and Harvey, but both where nowhere to be found.

Just then, she heard gasps from a few guests, then screams when a gunshot rang through the air. People formed a circle and Belle struggled to get to the front. Just then she heard an eerie voice.

"Good evening ladies and gen-tle-meeen," she heard a plate clatter. "We are tonight's entertainment!" Then she saw him. He was walking over to the refreshments table and he grabbed a piece of fruit. "I only have one question . . . Where is Harvey Dent?" She didn't like where this was going. He pointed a gun at a group of girls and grabbed a man's face "Do you know where I can find him? I need to talk to him, it's just somethin' little, something little." The man turned away and the Joker strode off to find someone else to terrorize. This went on until an old man stood up to him

"We are not intimidated by thugs!"

The Joker flicked open his notorious knife. "You know, you remind me of my father … I hated my father."

"Okay, stop." Belle turned towards the brave voice. It was Rachel. The Joker strolled over to her, pushing back his hair with his knife.

"Well, he-llooo beautiful. You must be Harvey's squ-eeeze. And you are beautiful." This infuriated Belle. She hated when men objectified women like that. She stormed through the crowd and pushed away the hands that tried to stop her from getting killed. She didn't care; she wanted to tell this guy off until his ear exploded.

"Hey, Rachel, who's you masochist friend here? He seems nice," she said with mock casualty. "But why don't you go over there so me and him can get acquainted, hmm?" Here eyes didn't leave the Joker's while she was talking to Rachel. When Rachel didn't leave Belle broke her gaze for a moment to push her back and give her a look that said 'I can handle this.' She finally got the picture and backed up to the first row of people in the circle. A man with a clown mask made her back up even more.

"You've got some spuuunk, kid. Or do they call it stupidity?" She turned back to the Joker.

"Do you even know how much of a jerk you are, Mr. Joker?" she began. "You kill innocents, you harass pretty much everyone, and now you are also a chauvinistic asshole."

"A-ta-ta-ta-ta, it's not polite to use such fowl language, little girl," he said as he waved his knife back and forth in an attempt to taunt her. "But I'm a forgiving person, Misssss . . . I didn't catch you name right there."

"Tell me yours I tell you mine," she said flatly.

"No chance in hell, little missy! Now, I am a forgiving perrrson, so I am going to tell you a stooorrry." He paused to grab her face and pull her closer. She stared him straight in the eyes and her hate for him began to ebb while looking into those dark caverns. She saw pain, and misery, and trauma. But not evil, she did not see any intention to kill. This man was simply tormented, not demented. She didn't believe he could hurt a fly.

Luckily for her the entire room mistook her knees getting weak for fear rather than falling in love. The Joker just got annoyed that she wasn't staying upright while he was telling a story. "No, no, no, just stand up," he held her against him so se could stay balanced. She shivered at their closeness. "Now, you see, I had a be-aaautiful wife. Like you who tells meshe told me I worried too much. She got in too deep with the sharks and one day, they carve up her face. And we don't have money for the surgery. She can't take it. I just want to see her smile again! I want her to know that I don't care about the scars. So one day put a razor in my mouth. . . and do this," he motioned to his scar-smile, "to myself. And do you know what?"

"What?" she asked without thinking.

He began laughing hysterically. "She can't stand the sight of me, that's what! . . . But can you stand the sight of me?" his hand moved from her back down towards her butt and she remembered why she was up there in the first place. She kneed him in the groin and he fell over, laughing hysterically. He actually liked the pain. She kicked him again and again and he laughed harder every time.

She put her foot on his throat and bent down to his face. "Don't touch me there unless you plan on taking me to dinner first, jackass." Just then a pair of gloved hands grabbed her and lifted her off the ground with ease. She tried to get out and yelled, "Come ON! Just one more minute! Please, please, please?" She turned her head to give Batman a pleading face. "Come ooooon, don't be a meanie! He deserves it and you know it."

He just ignored her and handed her over to Rachel, who held her back with all her strength. "Shush, he will take care of this, just calm down, sweetie, just calm down." Belle finally gave up and relaxed. There was no way that she could make the Joker learn anything. She understood that once the fog of fury had gone from her head. Then, she began to pay attention to the fight. Batman was pounding on him and Belle felt her heart break for the Joker. He didn't deserve the beating that the so-called "vigilante" was inflicting upon him. She decided that the laughter and his over-all manner was simply a mask even thicker than his makeup.

And she would be the one to take that mask off.

All of a sudden the Joker ran over and grabbed her by the throat. With her in a headlock, they moved over to the window, the Joker never looking away from the Batman. Belle wanted him to look at _her_ not some jerk-off in a rubber suit. She screamed to try and get his attention. But he insisted at having a staring contest with his enemy.

"Drop the gun," Batman rasped. _Someone could use a Halls, _thought Belle sarcastically.

"Fine, just take off your little mask and show everyone who you _really _are," the Joker said as he waved his handgun around. He forced her to walk backwards with him and she heard a gunshot and glass shattering. He placed her on the window sill and only held onto her forearm. She was genuinely afraid for her life now, knowing that he would drop her out of the window if the Batman made an attempt at saving her.

"Let her go." Obviously he didn't know the implications of what he said.

"Very poor choice of words," the Joker said as he let Belle's arm go. She lost her balance and fell, screaming, down the slanted side of the building. It was made of glass, so she couldn't get a hold on anything. She saw the Batman follow her but she fell before he could catch her. She was freefalling hen she felt strong arms close around her. She looked up and saw the points of his almost laughable cowl.

She felt them collide with metal and she looked around and saw that they had landed on a taxi. He stood up and stabbed her arm with a needle filled with a tranquilizer. The last thing she remembered was wanting to cuss him out for it.

Belle's mind had wandered from remembering Bruce to remembering the Joker. It hurt her to think about it so she tuned it out and continued on her journey to the Narrows.


End file.
